


Knocking down the house(Let alone the door)

by FannishMinded



Series: Knocking Down and Building Up [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Consent Issues, Cultural Differences, Cultural References, Fear, Female Bilbo, Good Intentions, Hazing, Kinda, Loss of Control, Loss of Trust, Misgendering, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Unbeta'd, Women's Rights, references to non-con, references to rape, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 17:52:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1478716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FannishMinded/pseuds/FannishMinded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kinkmeme Fill for this prompt: Female!Bilbo reacts to a bunch of unknown, big, armed men ignoring her wishes as they invade her home<br/>http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/6263.html?thread=15718263#t15718263</p>
<p>Bilba Baggins is not about to be a victim, but neither is she about to go toe to toe with dangerous, burly men. She is terrified, but that never stopped her mother- and she'll be damned if she's going down without a fight. Meanwhile, the Dwarves are suddenly realizing that they are bypassing special hell, and are on the express train to the ultimate pits. Pity it's all just a misunderstanding. </p>
<p>This is a straight copy from the KM, if you want something a tiny bit more polished, subscribe to the series as I will be adding the other works (including a minor re-write on this) soonish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The conversation with Gandalf had been stewing in her mind for a while, long enough she'd missed tea. She wasn't sure she could remember the last time she'd done such a foolish thing as that. She was glad she'd set that, that, disturber of the peace, on his way.

The very idea of her, Bilba Baggins, of Bag End, on an adventure of all things. It was preposterous.

She finally was stirred into action again by her hunger, quickly changing out of her nicer clothes and into her cleaning clothes. It would be her luck for a cousin to come calling when she was already out of sorts.

This in mind she set to baking up a large batch of scones, and a half dozen other basics to last her the next few days. Between batches she cleaned up a bit, then as she got closer to supper, she pulled out her mending. She disliked skirts, if nothing for how they seemed to always catch on things, not one but three of them needed mending. She finished supper and then most of the mending before full dark had set.

Normally, she'd have a bit lighter diner, but what with having missed tea, she went ahead and made a full batch of fried potatoes, as well as carrots and caramelized onions to go with her fresh trout. She was just grinding some salt over the plate when the bell rang.

She peered outside, but she wasn't mad, it really was well after time for diner, no one would be calling, not unless it was urgent.

With this in mind she hurried to the door, hastily tying her dressing robe to cover her indecent top. She worried it might be- well, important. Too important to spend the time to go put on proper clothes of some sort.

She pulled open the door and gaped, blinking for a second as the tall, dwarven man, turned to look her over. And if she hadn't been so wrong footed to have such a very odd visitor, especially with twilight's last edges fading to true night, she might just have given more than just a thought to being rude yet prudent.

Instead, the stranger, Dwalin, bowed and greeted her, "Dwalin, at your service." shocking her back into polite hostess mode, if just for a moment.  
She made a low sound of shock and dismay before she managed to return "Bilba Baggins, at, at yours." as she gave a short, abbreviated curtsey back, but with her numbed reactions it came out as more a half hearted bow and nod.

She had barely straightened, before the man was stepping forward and into her house without care or pause.

She stepped back hurriedly, turning slightly away from his bulk, subconsciously trying to stay out of reach. She found herself noting, with a faint clench in her stomach and tiny tremble of her hands, that the massive wall of dwarf was not only half again as wide as her in shoulder, but half again her weight in muscle. She barely managed to push words out as he strode fully past her into the entry, "Ex-Excuse me, but do we, know each other?"

Dwalin looked at her with what could only be called a scowl, shortly stating "No.".

As if the idea of knowing her, was offensive.   
He started stripping his cloak as he moved straight through the room, and Bilba for a fast second debated running. She could reach the Gamgee smial in less than a hand of minutes if she ran full out. Her racing thoughts were interrupted as the booming voice asked "Which way laddie? Is it down here?"

He had his cloak full off, and was peering around as he balled it up. Her only reaction, in that first second, was utter relief that he thought her a lad. Not a lass. Then the other words processed and she stammered out "Is-is what down where?".

He turned back to her, striding close and her breath caught in her throat, Dwalin's cloak being thrown at her, gave her something of a start, as he strode past her stating "Supper" as she fumbled with the coat. Dwalin continued as he entered her kitchen, "He said there'd be food, and lots of it.".

Bilba blinked again at that and started forward a few steps asking "He? He said? Who said?" but Dwalin gave it no notice, instead sitting down to her plate and starting to eat.

She looked at the cloak in her hands, and debated once more what she could do to get rid of the huge, scary man in her kitchen, before deciding that just, treating him like any guest might get him to leave "The Lad, Bilba" after an, awfully late, visit. She closed the door and hung the cloak before gingerly stepping into the room that had been cheery and cozy just moments before.

She clenched her hands together, looking at the way the dwarf shoveled the food into his mouth, the large catch made to look a fingerling in his hand. His hand. Really. She thought briefly of grabbing a chair to sit at the table, but she didn't want to have him looking at her more than absolutely necessary. Instead she moved to the bench behind his chair, looking over, and trying her best to think on how to get him out without offending him.

He made approving sounds as he finished the food, then he lifted the fish bones, and ate the head whole, crunching the bones. Bilba's eyes widened and she felt a shot of nausea at the manners of her guest. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her tummy, as Dwalin leaned back in his chair and finally spoke. "Very good, this. Any more?" She blinked and then became flustered once more. She was not being a good hostess, "What, oh, oh, uhm, yes." She stood and looked around before seeing the scones, "Yes. Ah!" She took up the plate, and then looked at where the dwarf was eating yet more of the inedible, to hobbits, bones of the fish. She then looked back at the plate before grabbing a scone from the top and placing it in her pocket.

She would need to also eat, missing one meal was bad enough, but two?

She moved forward and placed it on the table saying "Help yourself." As she set it down. And before it was fully on the table he was reaching for them, and he shoved the entire scone into his mouth, crumbs falling into his beard and over his armor in a cascade.

She stepped back and away, looking with horror, she really had to find a way to get rid of him. She thought she might try again now that he was fed. "Hmm, it's just that, um, I wasn't expecting company." She had no more said this than the door bell rang again. Dwalin looked up with a scowl, and Bilba felt faint with nerves and a growing horror. She really was expecting no company. And this made her seem a liar- Dwalin gruffly stated "That'll be the door."

Bilba hoped, wildly, that another hobbit had seen the disreputable Dwarf and was coming to get gossip. She hated Gossip, and no matter the truth, this night would damage her reputation somewhat, but she'd be glad of it, if just for another hobbit's presence.

Bilba instead felt her stomach plummeting to her feet as she opened the door to another dwarf.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things head south, quickly. 
> 
> Also- the layout of Hobbiton is very different in this than in the movie. I go into it more in the touched up version.

This Dwarf, was at least closer to decent sized, looking nearly as old as Old Took. It was not nearly as comforting as it might have been in light of day.

"Balin, At your service." The cheerful smile did nothing for easing the situation, and as Bilba most assuredly did not want to be at any more dwarves services, at all, she returned with "Good evening." hoping to keep this second stranger, at least, out of her smial.

She need not have tried. "Yes, yes it is," Balin continued as he stepped forward and into the hall, "though I think it might rain later." without so much as a pause. He came closer, and she just barely kept from pulling back as he grabbed her hand, clasping it like a man to a man, and asked "Am I late?".

Balin let go quickly and Bilba asked with utter confusion "Late? Late for what?" but Balin was already moving on toward the sound of clattering crockery. Bilba shuddered to hear it, till seeing it was worse than she thought, Dwalin was trying to fit his massive hand, with those brutal fist weapons on them, into her glass cookie jar.

The barked laugh from Balin made her startle even as the two men looked at each other, Balin cheerfully calling "Evening Brother." and the two dwarves set to circling one another, chatting and acting much more like any long parted brothers would. She stuck her head out and looked around, but for good or ill, there were no other travelers in a good clip's walk on the road.

She turned back to the brothers, now moving in for a hug. They may be crass, and rude, but, maybe they weren't too alien. It took less than a single moment for that thought to be utterly crushed, as the familial embrace quickly changed from familiar to violent.

She had been stepping forward, and now, as the solid and harsh smack of two skulls meeting with force made her jump back, her back hitting the curved wall behind her, and her heart beating faster again. No, these were no gentle hobbits, nor hobbits of any sort. She needed them gone. And soon. She fisted her hands and gathered her resolve before pushing straight and stepping forward. 

"Ah, excuse me? Sorry, I hate to interrupt. But the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you're in the right house." She gestured to the door, but the dwarves were completely ignoring her, heading into the pantry, with Dwalin pouring up another mug of brew, and Dwalin surveying her larder like a sub par offering on feast day. She continued, needing them to understand that she needed them gone, but hopefully without offending them. "It's not that I don't like visitors. I like visitors as much as the next Hobbit." The dwarves were picking the cheeses up with bare, dirty, hands, and then setting them back on the plates.

She clenched her hands still tighter and then continued in a bit stronger tone as her ire rose up over her growing unease. "But I do like to know them before they come visiting." Still they were ignoring her, talking about the cheese, despite her trying very hard to be get back control, some control. To get them out of her house. She couldn't do anything, but continue to try and reason with them. She certainly couldn't force them out as they had proven they cared not for her wishes, and were easily able to overpower her.

She continued with resolve. "The thing is, I don't know either of you. Not in the slightest." Her best aged cheese flew past and splattered over the floor, again she felt like her belly was fighting her, and she wanted nothing more than to run away at this point, but felt it too late to do so. "I don't mean to be blunt, but I had to speak my mind." The dwarves were still fighting, and Bilba weakly wondered if they were even saying a word she had said as she wrapped up with, "I'm sorry."

The two brothers obviously had been, because as one they turned to look at her, and Bilba felt a faint hope that they might actually listen to her this time. Instead Balin said, as if pardoning her a great gaffe, "Apology accepted." Before turning back to Dwalin and insisting on a fuller mug.

Bilba felt like crying, and as she tried to think of what to do, the bell rang again.

This was her home. This was the one place that was hers. And she had no clue how to reclaim it. And she just knew, as she turned to look at the door, that on the other side was not salvation, but another dwarf here to violate the spirit of hospitality and companionship that made a smial something more than a hole in a hill.


	3. Chapter 3

She opened the door, and it was not another dwarf, but two more dwarves.

She whimpered and felt her hope of escaping this dwindle. She looked down to keep from crying as the two men, both taller, and looking to be in their prime, the darker haired one scowling like Dwalin, angry black eyes and furrowed brows meeting her look when she looked up to their introduction. "Fili" "And Kili" They bowed as one, before saying together, "At your service." Bilba could not let them in, she wanted them all gone, and even if the scowl had now faded to a cheerful exclamation that made the dwarf seem more like a tween, Bilba moved to close the door.

As she should have done to Dwalin, managed to close and latch it before he could enter.

"Nope! You can't come in. You've come to the wrong house!" She moved to shove the door closed, trying to keep them from storming in like the other two had, by using the door as a shield.

Kili shouted "What?" and with a single hand not only pushed the door back open, but forced Bilba to slide back a half a foot and almost fall over as she clung to the door.

The two continued "Has it been canceled?" "No one told us." Bilba snapped at this, shooting back "No, nothing's been canceled-" The rest of her sentence, that there was nothing on to begin with, was literally shoved out of her as Kili absently elbowed the door further open, thus jostling her enough to steal her breath. He hadn't even tried, casually saying "Well, that's a relief." as he followed the same pattern as the men before him, in thrusting his way into her smial.

They both came in and started stripping off their weapons as she gathered herself to make one more desperate try to somehow stop them, to keep them from, from, from just. "Careful with these, I just had them sharpened." Fili thrust an armload of weapons at Bilba, and suddenly she could barely breathe for the sheer, danger, of these men. They were all warriors. Violent men. Kili was commenting on how nice it was, as Bilba was desperately locking her knees, and taking controlled breaths to keep from screaming.

"Did you do it yourself?" Kili asked while scraping the mud from his boots off on her mother's glory box. "That's my mother's glory box! Can you, please, not do that?" She felt sick. She felt the violation of her mother's last gift to her, more than any other so far, and all she wanted to do was go cry over the destruction the dwarves were wreaking on her sanctum.

And then Dwalin came and grabbed Kili, calling for both Fili and Kili to join them.

And then what Balin was saying clicked through her mind, "Everyone?!?!" She almost shouted, voice raising even as she felt weaker than ever before during this horrible night. "How many more of you are there?" She asked, her voice cracking, and she was at the end of her ability to cope. She could not stay, she was going to run away, because the bell was ringing.

She snapped. Shouting in a hoarse tone "NO! There is NOBODY HOME!" She all but threw the weapons onto the now muddy and scuffed glory box, storming towards the door as she continued to shout. She wanted to fight, to kick and scream and drive her attackers out of her smial, to try and reclaim what shreds of her home were left unsullied from this invasion.  
"GO AWAY and bother somebody else!" She kicked the belts of weapons to the side as well as she railed, fighting the only way she had ever been taught to, with words, as she stormed over, "There are far and away too many dwarves in my dining room as it is! If this is some, some, CLOT head's idea of a joke," She gave a hysterical little laugh, as she reached the door. "I can only say it is in very poor taste." she unlatched the door to scream at them all to go away- when dwarves literally started shoving and falling through.

And at that moment she finally acknowledged to herself that even had she actually done the prudent, yet rude, thing in the first place, had she closed and latched her door against Dwalin, he likely would have just beaten it down. And her not long after.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep, short chapters- I blame the tiny character count over on LJ.  
> Again, faithfully copied, warts and all, from LJ- please forgive all the errors, I just needed to throw this up least I never get up the gumption to do it.

She felt numb all over, her body not trembling anymore as she stepped back to give the dwarves room to pick themselves up, from top of the pile to bottom. Inside her mind she was screaming, but outside she looked far calmer than she had been since the doorbell had first rang.

She looked at them, and noted the array of weapons they each held, the sheer size of no few of the members, and the way they all seemed more interested in giving a brief greeting, and continuing to the food, than anything else. She nodded to each, unable to say anything, and when the last of the dwarves, wearing a hideous cap, asked "You planning to join us, there, laddie?" She finally spoke. Her mind had not been idle, and she knew that the Gamgees would not be able to help with this lot. She needed to buy time, and a lot of it.

"Oh, no, please, do go on. I just need to prepare some things." She was proud that her voice remained steady, even if a bit thready. The dwarf barked some laughter and nodded. "Oh! Good, so you already agreed to come with us, then! Well I'll leave you to packing up then!" Before he headed into the other room.

She closed the door, not bothering to latch it this time. She then grabbed the poker from her study, grabbing stools and twine, taking her fabric sheers to a guest bed's sheet and hastily making lines of cloth, thread tied fast and vases chosen for their weight, with no regard to value.

She needed time. And if her sight blurred no few times, or her hands shook, it was because she knew she had so little of it. She looked at her hall, and each door, nook and cranny with all the skills of youthful her Tookish mischief. Now twisted and perverted from harmless pranks to dire defenses. She set each line, backing her way into her bedroom, grabbing items out of every room as she went, meanwhile in the distance she heard the dwarves roaring their delight. Each clatter and crash, each roar of victory and mirth, made something inside her gibber with fear.

She didn't look too closely at it as she tied the last of the lines and twisted the last loop around the edge of a shelf she had pulled almost completely free from it's mooring. She'd installed that shelf with her father when she was a tween. It had been too heavy and horribly made, but she had made it, so they had gone and gotten long metal nails from Bree to fit it. To anchor it.

And now, with a single tug, it would come down as a last line of defense. She prayed, though held little hope, that it would not be needed.

She entered her room, looking at what remained in it, Moving hastily to pull and push and pile as much as she could around the door. Shoving and turning furniture so that it braced from the far wall over to the pile against the door, praying that even if they splintered the door, the other furniture would also delay them. She needed more time. As she thought this, she heard a banging and crashing down the hall. The first trap.

She slumped against the far wall for a moment, letting herself cry. 

This was her _home_.

It had been her safe place, all her life.

And they had taken that safety from her.

She firmed her grip on the poker, shuddering each time they shouted for her.

"Go away" it came out cracked and powerless, her voice thick. And each time they shouted, her voice increased a fraction. A chant in counter.


	5. Chapter 5

The company was having a grand time. The lad might be fussy, but he evidently kept a decent larder. And when Bofur joined the fray to gather the feast, he was delighted to see so many kinds of meat and so many pastries on the table.

Bofur thought the lad had looked faint but obviously he had some mettle, packing when there was a feast like this to be had, he must be eager for the road. Maybe there was more to him than it had seemed at first, as he had stood barely polite enough to nod back to each greeting before.

Maybe he was a youth, like Kili, aye, maybe it was his first adventure. That might explain it.

He let it out of his mind, and focused on the feast, tossing an egg to his brother, and joining in the cheering as Bombur caught it in his mouth.

*

Everything was going well until Ori went to go ask Mister Baggins a question. And then the clattering crash, and startled shout from Ori, drew them all to the main entry.

Ori was backing away from the hall, holding his head and belly while gaping at the dangling stool that was still swinging from a ragged strip of sheet in the doorway to the hall beyond.

"What's THIS?" Dori shouted, hurrying to Ori's side, as Nori moved to look at the stool, crunching over the shards of what looked to have once been a large and fragile vase. It had made quite a loud crash when it shattered.

Bofur spoke up "The lad had mentioned preparing, maybe he was setting defenses." Bombur stepped closer to the entrance with a frown, looking over the mess as well. "Little early for that, innit?"

Kili exclaimed at that and also moved forward, stepping up nearer to Nori and peering into the darkened hall, where all the lights had been snuffed. "Well, Bilba had said he didn't make the house, it's the family's home for generations, most likely. Maybe he started to set the family defenses and forgot how to get around them?"

That spawned a series of chuckles and guffaws, some burglar their little grocer was shaping up to be. Shaking his head Fili called out down the hall, "Oh, Mister Baggins, did you happen to forget something? Like the way out?" This spawned more laughter, and some hooted calls, Kili and Fili both shouting a few more cheeky questions, one after the other, for a few minutes, but Balin was not laughing at their antics.

Nor was anyone by the time the lads tapered off, as each call was met with silence.

"Bilba Baggins! Are you alright lad?" called Balin, moving closer to the hall as well, Fili and Kili now looking at each other and the others.

"LAD! Answer us!" In the distance there was a short sound, but nothing loud, and not at all reassuring. It was so muffled that it took a few more calls to let them breathe a sigh of relief that the lad hadn't managed to actually kill himself on his own traps.

"LAD, Can ye give a shout, are you okay?" And the same short response, muffled, and still barely audible, and Ori wrung his hands and piped up, with a horrified note to his own voice, "I think he might be shouting Help Me." 

At this the Dwarrows all moved to action, Nori and Kili moving back to the hall, Dwalin gathering candles from the candelabra and Balin moving back, clucking at the situation. "We're coming Laddie, don't fret!" he shouted, before looking over to the others. "Fili, you and the others go outside and see if you can't go around the outside, there may be another way in that the lad hasn't armed yet." They nodded grimly.

Many of them now held the conviction that their potential burglar may have looked old in the face, but it was seeming more and more likely the lad was just that, a lad. And in his eagerness to prove himself grown, had gotten himself hurt. "Not much of a burglar, our lad." Bofur stated as they exited the burrow.

There were a few half hearted chuckles as they set to work. Nori and Kili inside, with Dwalin lighting their work, as they disarmed traps one at a time, and the lads outside circling and trying to find another way in.

Inside, Balin started to look around again, hoping to find a clue to what built in defenses their might be, beyond the basic deterrents that Nori and Kili were quickly making their way through.

Instead, he noticed that most of the house was set up for only one person. And that the clothes in an overturned basket of mending, were all skirts. He picked up the top one, looking closer at it, and then he looked up and moved to the entrance and then stepped into the hall beyond it.

He could not stop his mind from turning and his heart sinking. Kili was shouting reassurances down the hall to Bilba again, and this time, as he moved up behind Dwalin, he could better understand the words, now that he was holding the horrible final piece of the puzzle. "She's not saying help me, Lad. She's saying "Go Away."" And Dwalin's head whipped around to look at his brother, taking in the half mended skirt, the needle and excess thread placed into the fabric for later completion, and then his eyes whipped back to the hallway, just in time to hear the now hysterical high pitched screaming and muffled deeper shouts of one of the lads that had gone the other way.

"Oh Mahal strike us." Kili breathed. And the other three could only grimly agree.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes- I expand heavily in the updated version- this is just to get it up on here and stop my cold feet.  
> Forgive the many errors, please.

Bofur and the lads made their way around the house, checking in each window in hopes of possibly finding one that might lead to the defense room the lad must have trapped himself in.

"Who manages to trap themselves in their own traps?" Fili asked, not really expecting an answer, but Dori answered seriously. "Many a dwarrow has met their end or suffered no minor injuries from trying to set unfamiliar traps in a hurry. It's why women and children of all races tend to go before the men into the defense rooms of any hold, and those trained relatives set the traps. There's always a trick to traps, but in a hurry it is easy enough to fall prey to the very defenses meant to save you." Oin nodded along at this, and Gloin gruffly added his own words on this. "My wife, she knows our traps like the pattern of her braid, but Gimli is yet to have the full training, it's safer for him to just head to the room without activating the more lethal traps, if he must do so alone. If the hobbit lad lost both parents younger, he might not know all the tricks to arming and then passing the traps."

Fili and Ori look quite interested in this, as both have never lived in a home that had their own traps, having instead been rushed to the communal rooms in time of danger when they were much younger. Fili to the shared royal quarters holds, and Ori to the marketplace shelter.

They were rounding the corner when they heard the now much clearer low shout of the hobbit lad to something Kili was shouting inside, and they darted forward in another rush. They had marveled at the number of windows they had passed, but the one they were heading to was far to large to be effectively trapped. Or so Bofur hoped as he leapt the small thorny bushes of flowers to beat Fili to the window.

"Go Away!" The lad called with what sounded like worried desperation, probably worrying for Kili and Nori as they disarmed the traps. The window was half opened, and Bofur was just tall enough stick his head through the square opening in the larger round pane of glass. "Oh, lad, they'll not be hurt by the hall defenses, no need to fret, Nori's got it well in hand, we'll have you out in a... Oh. Bilba."

He was saying it even as his eyes widened, and the last words stuttered out. Taking in the tear tracks catching in the low light, and the barricade against the far door. The lad wasn't trapped. He was terrified, and to all appearances, terrified of THEM. He was processing the sight, of the scattered clothes and the cowered shape, and slowly his brain was catching up with what it was seeing. He had barely begun to move back, to pull out and get the others to retreat when Bilba burst into action of her own.

And then the little Hobbit was screaming, and the poker in her hand was lashing out even as she was screaming and crying out against, what to her, were attackers.

"OUT! OUT! NO! Don't you, don't you, come in here! I'm armed, and I swear I'll, I'll bite and fight you off! You, you won't come in, not in here! NOT IN HERE! NOT IN MY ROOM! NO MORE! NO!" She was screaming, and there was no way to mistake her for anything but a woman.  
Not even with the ringing now filling his head.

Her hit addled him, glancing as it had been and padded as his head was by the thick fur and leather hat, jerked back by the frantic pulling of his brothers, and his own horrified lunge back, was the only thing to save him from being truly brained. He could not blame her for it though. Nor could the others from the horrified gasps and shocked stares of the others, he dazedly noted, as he was pulled through the snagging thorns of the bushes by his family.

Thorin's own sudden bellow as he charged up the path was muddled from the ringing, but even with everything warbling, Bofur knew that Thorin would be right to do more than just hit them all over the head with twice the force she, Lady Bilba, had just used. He hoped vaguely that Thorin would help her calm, if anything could. He leaned into and onto his brother, his world spinning. And not just from the blow.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really need to learn how to do that highlight to show the translation thing down, for the re-write. Not understanding what Thorin's bellowing and ranting might be a problem. As it is, have the non-fancy straight translations.

Thorin was late. He was frustrated with the news he would soon be bringing to his men, and how hopeless his quest was starting to seem. He had no army, just 13 dwarrow against what might be a live dragon, the largest dragon seen in over an age.

Every step he took felt like plodding through snow, and he finally crested the low hill leading to Gandalf's burglar's house, having delayed far longer than he should. He would have to admit to having lost his way, if mentally more than physically.

Thorin looked up to the taller hill and then stopped for a second. His eyes did not deceive him, what had to be over half the party was circling the hill-top, looking in the windows.

What the blazes was going on? He sped up his walk, the heavy feeling evaporating under a sudden sense of urgency and danger. He was nearing the base of the large hill when he heard the distant screaming, his feet gaining wings at the sounds of a terrified _woman_. Every instinct to protect and defend was firing, and his blade was to hand without pause and his eyes sweeping the hill for what might be attacking.

As he came close enough to see the other Dwarrows more clearly he barked **"Where is the attackers?"** in clipped and precise Khuzdul, his eyes taking in the lack of weapons bared and his teeth clenched as Fili paled further, blanching as if struck with a mortal blow, and the others looked no better. **"ANSWER ME!"**

He noted Bofur, his face ashen, and leaning on his brother, what looked to be a smudge of blood on his brow. Yet not a one brandishing even a boot knife. He spun a look around once, then twice, before looking back and stepping closer to them before asking, this time in clipped Westron, "Are you all addled?"

Fili finally found the voice to speak, and his words made Thorin sway, the weight he had felt just moments before slamming back into him with an entire mountain added to it. By the last word his sword weighed more than all the company combined, the tip drifted to nearly touch the ground as he stared into Fili's eyes looking for something to make this horror untrue.

Fili's voice cracked in saying it, and his eyes were as devastated as the others, a look Thorin had never wanted to see on his nephew's face, "We're the attackers, uncle. We didn't know. We didn't. We thought she was a lad. Oh Mahal strike us into pieces, we've become **Lady-Breakers**."

There was no word in Westron for the concept. The concept all dwarrows of any honor loathe. Lady-Breakers. Dwarrows that violate a woman's will or body. That remove a woman's power, and make her fear men, possibly for life. To risk all potential futures that she could bring to a clan.

No dwarrow of Erebor or The Blue Mountains, indeed, no dwarrow from any clan that held any respectability in any land would dare risk such a thing. It was only by the grace of Mahal and the Dwarrowdams that chose to endure childbirth, that any clan could survive.

And his own sister-sons had become, his mind shuddered away from the thought. "No. I refuse to- Tell me. _**HOW**_?" he stepped forward again, his voice on the last word a bellow of denial and rage and fear.

These were men he trusted. His family, his kin, his chosen companions. Their actions were HIS actions. And Fili looked close to fainting, much like the youngest of the company, Ori, who was leaning on his oldest brother. It was Dori who spoke up now, as Fili looked to have lost his nerve.

"None of us knew Bilba was a Lady. The sons of Fundin thought him a fussy little lord, and were testing his mettle. We all were. And the Lad, Lady, seemed, excitable and untried, but eager enough to join in the end." Dori's face was pinched and Ori added in a quavering voice, "She must have been so terrified, all that time we were feasting." His shoulders were shaking but his tears were silent.

Thorin's grip tightened on his sword again, his breath coming in with a hiss, his teeth gritted as if he could bite through their words and make them a lie. A lie better than this truth.

He was their leader, and his men had done the most heinous of crimes. There was no excuse. "Go, gather the others. Be ready, away from the entrance, but within view of it. I will have the whole story, and I will have it now."

The others moved in a stumbling group, hearts as heavy as his own, but not one lifetime of their remorse was worth even a single flake of gold.

Thorin breathed deeply for a few moments, sheathing his sword and bracing himself before moving to the still open window, but not close enough to touch it. His ears taking in the choked and ragged breathing inside, the hitches to each breath that still came out like forge bellows with fear.

He had to clear his throat once he opened his mouth, finding the words he needed fleeing him. He then spoke, needing to at least attempt to assure her, however little it might mean to her.

"Lady Bilba, I have no excuse for my men. There is no excuse that could ever be given. We have wronged you, and I can only promise, we will not do so again. I give my oath as Thorin, son of Thrain, to you, Lady Bilba Baggins, that we will forevermore heed your wishes in your home and lands. Your desires and needs, no matter when or where we might be or meet after this, will be our binding action. We have wronged you, grievously. Until that debt is cleared, we are less than gravel, and at your service and mercy. None will enter your room, and if any tried, I would see to them myself. I swear this to you, with my very life and title."

There was no sound, but for the horrible bellows of a terrified person prepared to fight or die, for far too long. Right as Thorin turned to leave, he heard her beg, "Just, please, stay away. All of you, just, Go. Away. Please."

Thorin bowed his head for a moment, then said, "We will repay for our crime, Lady Bilba, and none shall go near to you." before he straightened and left to go find his answers.


	8. Chapter 8

Thorin came around to the front of the hill and saw all 12 of his companions standing a fair bit down the road from the entry but within line of sight of it. Gloin and Nori were holding both of Bofur's shoulders to keep him upright as he swayed in place and Oin was using the light of a candle Bifur was holding up to check Bofur's reactions, but otherwise, all the Dwarrows looked immediately to Thorin as he came into view.

By the time Thorin had stopped, all eyes were on him. Dwalin, Balin, Kili, Fili and last, Bombur, stood to the front, weapons balanced on outstretched arms, every blade and arrow, axe and duster, removed and balanced as they had been piled onto the planes of their forearms.

Thorin felt his heart drop again, and he firmed his stance and spoke, not as uncle, or friend, but as the leader of these men.

"We are here, to know the extent of our collective debt, and judge if our blades must break for the depth of our crimes. Each member of this company shares the judgement, no matter what it must be. The first to commit the crime, speak now, and know I will do what I must to pay the debt you have incurred for us all." Thorin drew his own sword, and held it, blade edge facing his left palm and handle clenched in a fierce grip.

Dwalin started the speaking, his voice clear and carrying as he spoke. The picture that was painted, with each word, made Thorin's left hand slowly clench tighter. First Dwalin, then Balin, spoke of testing Bilba as they would an unblooded lad. Of Dwalin's glares from the first, of ignoring the ever fussier polite demands and requests.  
Of winding her up and seeking to put an assumed green lad off balance to test his worth and honor. Of going out of their way to be just this side of rude and intimidating to test her courage. Dwalin and Balin both made a pained sound as they communicated this. Their shared decision now sinking into their very hearts.

Every face showed the ever growing horror and sickness Thorin felt as the brothers Fundin, his oldest friends, spoke of their horrific decisions and actions. No, that the Lady had kept her head as well as she had, spoke volumes for her fortitude, a tiny part of him noted. Even a lad would have been hard pressed to stay cool.

It was during Fili and Kili's trade off tale, that blood finally began to well along Thorin's blade.

He did not interrupt, but Kili's voice quavered and cracked as he spoke of knocking open the door with an arm jab as Bilba tried to close it. Of shoving it open farther still in an elbow check that bounced her back over a foot, to push his way in, of wiping his boots on the fussy box, by the door. His eyes were streaming tears, and he looked as if he were about to become violently ill, but he held on till the end of his telling, his weapons wavering, but not a single item disturbed enough to fall.

It was good that he managed to steady himself, as if a single one had, their guilt would be deemed absolute by rule of the rite of breaking blade. No judgement of mortals could change it. Not until mortal judement was passed, and punishment enacted, would they be allowed to move and put away their weapons.

Fili's own voice cracked again, as he spoke of menacing the quaking hobbit, of making sure to pile almost all his blades into the soft arms as he had pointedly mentioned that they had just been sharpened.

His breath caught and his jaw trembled as he added, "I all but implied that they might be USED on-" Dwalin snapped an interruption, "Only FACTS and intentions of the moment, Fili."

Fili drew in a half sob, and bit his lips before continuing, "I wanted to rattle the rabbit lord, show him, her, what warriors should be." He said instead, and as he said no more, Bombur spoke up now in his brother's stead. 

He spoke of them piling against the door, of hearing the Hobbit railing against visitors and dwarves, and deciding to not give the lad, lady any choice in the matter, by mutual agreement. Bofur volunteering to be at the bottom of the pile. The mischievous dwarf having said it would be worth a laugh, and might lighten the lad up.

Bombur got to the part he was unsure of, and he had to visibly struggle not to turn and look back at the concussed dwarf.  
"Bofur didn't say much of, of the moments he had alone before joining us in feasting. Just that Bilba had said she had to go prepare things."

As he was speaking for another, his own speech was allowed to be less strictly facts and intentions, as it was second hand information and he could only try to use his own insight to try and give the intentions.

"She prepared traps, cobbled them together in less than the time we were feasting. Ori, looking for Bilba to answer a question, triggered one. At this point, we all thought Bilba was preparing to leave. It was only after the calls of Fili and Kili were unanswered that we began to worry for her safety. We thought, a foolish lad had managed to injure himself on a family trap. Nori and Kili stayed inside, to disarm the traps there and try to reach Bilba, the Balin and Dwalin staying to supervise, and the rest of us were sent out to find another way in."

He closed his eyes for a second then opened them and continued. "And we did. We could hear Bilba shouting for Kili to go away as he shouted something to her. We all, or at least I thought, that it might be out of worry for Kili. Bofur was closest to the window, and lept the bushes to go reassure Bilba that Nori and Kili were experts, that they'd be through in no time, and then, he trailed off. I think he realized, because even before the scream started, he was pulling back. And then, you heard and saw the rest. Her blow glanced off, if it had landed true, my brother would be at least as addled as our cousin, permanently, if not dead."

From the background, Bofur managed to muzzily slur in Khuzdul **"Wish she'd hit true."**

Bombur flushed, but said nothing.

There was nothing more to say.

Not by them, at least.

Thorin looked over them all, his own blood wetting his blade in long rivulets. His jaw clenched hard enough for his teeth to squeak and groan in his ears, and his hands both tightened a fraction before he slid his sword along and out of his hand, not changing the pressure on his left hand's grip.

He held up his palm in the pale moonlight and uncurled his fingers, spreading them so the cut gaped, a bleeding gash that had obviously not severed muscle completely, but went easily deep enough to display the layers beneath the skin.

"We have gravely wounded a potential mother. We have taken her control from her, and done so by force. We have threatened her with violence. We have desecrated her hearth and her refuge. We have damaged her works and desecrated her treasures. We have brought terror where there should only be safety. We have removed her power and her right of denial, breaking both. There is in no way that we are not **Lady-Breakers** besides the ultimately unforgivable act of _stealing a chance at siring itself_."

He clenched his fist tightly at that, bringing his sword up to score a faint line along the back of his hand in parallel to the line across his palm. It was faint but deep enough to weep blood. Deep enough that it, with the staining ointment Oin would soon be using, will mark them all.

"We share this crime, and we share its mark. We will repay our debt, or disband now. There will be no honor for us, until we have earned the **striking of debt**. If we fail to earn that pardon, if our harm is beyond recovery, we will complete the mark, and bear it alone as we go our ways." He opened his left hand again and stepped up to Dwalin.

As he continued, he quickly repeated the marks on each left hand, scoring the back. Only his own hand received the slice to palm, as fitting for the leader and chief offender. His crime the combination of each and every one of the men under him's actions.

"Mahal gave blessing in the form of mothers. They are the most precious treasure, and we have potentially destroyed untold numbers of clansmen. No matter her race, Dwarrows of all creatures, know the gift of potential mothers. We have risked futures untold, and if our actions can destroy one priceless treasure, we can not be trusted not to destroy all Mahal's greatest treasures." He was looking into Kili's eyes as he said this. And this score went a little deeper.

He moved on and marked each dwarrow, Oin rubbing the ointment into each and every scored line and Thorin's gash. He finished bandaging Thorin's hand under the gaze of them all before Thorin spoke again.

"We have much work to do, each of you will undo what we have done, as best you can. You know your skills, use them to best efficiency. Let none enter the trapped hall this eve, nor go near to Bilba's room at any time, on pain of death." Thorin and the other Dwarrows turned to the doorway and then, to a one, they jumped in startlement.

For sitting on the step, hat removed and propped on his knees and staff draped between gnarled hands to either side of his shins, was the Wizard.

No one knew when he had arrived, but obviously it had been long enough.

His face was long, and he seemed bent with age and sorrow.

"What have you fools done?" he asked.

It was not a question in need of answers, for he obviously already knew. Having heard enough to piece it together, even if he had just arrived a mere moments ago.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I still hate this chapter with the fiery passion of a thousand suns- even in the re-write it fights me.

Gandalf looked worn and ancient in ways he never had before. His pinched frown pulled the craggy lines of his face into sharp relief and the hunched pose of his body seeming to echo with every year that Thorin knew or suspected the wizard had survived.

Gandalf's position was folded into casually blocked the entrance without ever once shifting. For a long moment, neither the dwarrows nor Gandalf were willing to break the tense silence.

It was Dori that spoke up, voice steady for all that it seemed to crack the very air with the words that fell between the groups. "You didn't tell us. Not even a hint, of any of it." Not quite an accusation and not quite a question, for all that it was both at the same time.

Balin sighed even as Thorin drew up straighter, anger making him fist his hands despite the pain that flared at the action. Most of the rest of the company shifted, but remained quiet, attention riveted on Gandalf.

Gandalf looked, if anything, to have gained another century in moments. His voice was strong and carried into the smial and to the listening dwarrows both, for all that the tone was soft as he explained mildly.

"I had anticipated resistance from both the company of Dwarrows, and the Hobbit they needed, on the matter of her coming along. I had hoped that when you arrived, you would be unable to turn away, your manners and hers working together to smooth the initial meeting. At my arrival, both sides would have had ample time to have asked and answered many of the questions needed to lay the tinder, knowledge of your fine quest, and needing only a spark to start the fires of adventure in Bilba. A few reminders and nudges would see us all together on the road in the morrow."

Gandalf closed his eyes and his head bent for a moment.

"I have never been more sorry to have been so very wrong."

Thorin cut in angrily at that admission, almost shaking with suppressed rage. "Why, why would you try such subterfuge, Wizard? Why would you risk such calamity? No dwarrow would risk a female, no matter the race, in such a quest as this!"

Gandalf opened his eyes and he looked up, eyes hard as they locked with Thorin's, and he seemed to grow a solid foot as he straightened his back.

"For that very reason." He said it sharply, and his voice had the power of rockslides in it, crashing falls that echoed, as he continued, "Hear me now, Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, you will never be King under the mountain, not without a hobbit's help. The dragon knows every scent of creature near the Dale, but that of hobbits, and no hobbit is as ready and suited to our quest, as Bilba Baggins, daughter of Belladonna Took. Without her, your quest would be doomed to dragon fire, the moment you entered the mountain." He deflated a bit, looking more like an old man, and less like a powerful wizard. 

Thorin too, looked old, looking fully his age for a change. "And with our actions, in her presence at this leg of what was to be our quest, we may have doomed it to an even worse conclusion than that of mere death. We trusted you wizard." Gandalf clenched his hands on the staff, swinging it to rest standing beside him instead of barring the path. He looked about to speak, but Thorin slashed his right hand down and across his chest, sweeping it out in a fast ark that translated in most languages quite easily.

Thorin glared at the man and concluded. "And now if Mahal is merciful, we might someday be call ourselves Dwarrows again. No matter how it came to be, our honor, our lines, our very souls, are now severed from our kin's. No one, but the very **Mahal-Blessed** , the same woman, we wronged, can reconnect us."

Gandalf maneuvered himself to stand, both hands gripping his staff and heaving himself up, and his eyes were sharp as he responded. "Then you had better learn to listen to what she wants, Thorin. Bilba is not a Dwarrowdam, and her ways are not yours." Thorin looked down at this then nodded, sharply.

Gandalf gave a smile that was weak at best, and nodded to the Dwarrows. "I will stay, and help, for a time. I would suggest you all stay the night in town, when you are done. The Green Dragon has a field behind it. To stay in her gardens, or near her house, would damage her reputation, more than your presence likely already will."

The Dwarrows all bowed to Gandalf's superior knowledge of Hobbits, and when the wizard stepped to the side they filed in to undo what physical harm they had caused the house, Thorin pausing by Gandalf as ordered chaos began changing the mess inside back into something much like a home. "Will you go speak to her, please. I fear, all dwarrows, may be frightening after our actions this night."

Gandalf nodded, "Of course, I would do it for her, if no other reason."

They both turned to their tasks, Thorin going into the house, and Gandalf walking slowly around to the only other lit window.

It was obvious from the slow, careful way he picked his steps that he was not looking forward to this conversation. Not at all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's it- that's the first draft of the first arc.   
> Cheers all, notes, comments, etc are loved.  
> Meta might get moved over as a bonus chapter, if I can track it all down and collate it.

Bilba had not moved for what felt like an age. She had found that any time she tried, her knees quaked and her stomach cramped and flipped like after getting a spoiled sandwich from a basket; one that you missed catching was spoiled till it was half eaten.

Her thoughts circled in the silence that had come, stealing her strength and locking her body against her.

She had tried so hard, to keep it together, to keep calm. She had managed it, until there had just been so many, they had believed her male, she had been, not safe but, safer, and then she had panicked. And they had tried to break into her room. Tried to break into her room and _get to her_. To break _into her_ , and she had fought, hit one. Made it, hopefully, not worth the danger. She had protected herself. She had. She was untouched. She _was._

She had given away her vulnerability, and they had sought- She had, has every right to be terrified, and they were gone now, gone away. She hopes. She lets out a single sob at this, a strangled thing, and she clings to that hope. Holds onto it as a mental lifeline to try and ride out the storm inside her mind.

She had been wanting to move, but unable to make herself, since the new Dwarf had promised she was safe. She didn't believe him, she just wanted him to go away. Wanted them all to just go away. Her chest hurt and she felt too large for her skin, terrifyingly exposed as she curled tighter to ease the cramping and spasms. She had to hold it together. She had already fallen apart.

She heard a muffled voice, one sounding, familiar- almost, Gandalf. He had finally come.

She might have laughed for the burst of new hope in her chest making her feel light, except her body was still locked in fear.

Maybe he'd get them to leave- Maybe, there was shouting now. It was the newer dwarf, Thornin? and he sounded angry, though she could not make out the words, the tone made her breath catch and tear at her lungs as she tried to move again and found her body once more refusing her.

The air cracked out in the hall as Gandalf said something sharp and loud in response, not making the feeling of fear any lighter, instead, for a moment she could not get any breath, her body seeming to have finally reached it's limit of fear. It simply stopped. She felt as though something was draining out of her even as her heart hammered as if trying to move the rest of her from within her chest.

She listened for more shouting, heart-beat thundering in her ears as none came, and finally she managed another loud gasp, air now coming again into her body, stoking the heat that was slowly filling where cold had traveled her veins moments before. She felt that fire flare steadily into life as she focused on breathing, wrestling her body into her control as in place of fear, anger began to thrum, one thought making her bold, as she heard a rustling beyond the open window.

Gandalf was finally coming. And maybe it was _all his fault to begin with_.

She couldn't stand without leaning, her knees still rebelling, but she could glare, and glare she did. Eyes hard as she glared at the silhouette shuffling before her window, until finally a grey haired head was illuminated in the faint light, bending and stooping to peer in, as he had her front windows that very morning.

"You are LATE. And unexpected, and and, and, a disturber of the peace!" She spoke first, voice rising on the last words, making them take weight she didn't feel she had to give them. He looked at her, and it felt like he was looking into and through her, as he bowed his head and acknowledged that fact.

"You are quite right, Bilba, and for that, I am most sorry."

The words were spoken softly, such a simple thing, yet they were what opened the gates of Bilba's emotions. All the things she had wanted to say started to burst their way up and out, and she finally didn't care what happened when they did.

“You’re sorry.” She repeated it back in a flat voice, before she locked eyes with Gandalf, her own anger and fear making her gaze something Gandalf could not turn from. Not and ever be welcomed into her smial again.

“You’re sorry that you gave me no notice of unnamed visitors, unannounced, uninvited, guests and thus left me utterly unprepared for such late visitors? You’re sorry that I was in naught but my dressing robe and cleaning smalls when I faced a stranger nearly twice my size, in every way, at my door?” Her voice lost its flat tone, picking up life and volume even as her chest and shoulders beginning a slight tremble even as she steamed on.

“You’re sorry, that male after male, huge, hulking, terrifying warrior after warrior quite handily shoved their way into my house without any request or leave? You’re Sorry, that I broke every rule of hospitality and tried to order them not to come in, only to be shoved, bodily out of the way; even threatened with implications and overt displays of how very outmatched I was? You’re so sorry, that I was forced to flee in my own home, the Smial my father built for my mother, that _had been_ my safety and secure home, until _this_ night? You’re so very sorry, that even the best traps I could improvise, turning my home into a battleground, and my very best attempts were just a game of child’s play tricks to the invaders YOU set to my door?” Her breathing was labored and seemed to rattle her as she drew it in, but her gaze and voice didn’t waiver.

“You’re sorry, that you set **_wolves_ to my door?** ” She said it, and suddenly it all clicked for her. The reaction. Why she was so angry and afraid and muddled, more than she ever thought she would be if it were just one night’s incident, as terrible as it was.

She spoke her revelation to Gandalf even as her mind finally grappled the truth of what she had been feeling into the open. “Because that is what you have done. You were here after the last time I felt terror anywhere near as sharp and consuming as this night. You were there after that day too.” Gandalf said nothing but inclined his head slightly, eyes going distant for a second then blinking, as she continued.

“They may not have fang or fur, but the terror of their presence will echo, every time an unexpected guest comes to my door.” Her entire body shook with a tremor, but her jaw was firmed to speak through it. “They have actually made me feel the same level of terror, in this evening, without ever once laying hand to me directly, that starving wolves did, when they nearly killed my mother and me. There is no way I can think of, that such terror won’t echo as that Fell Winter’s day does.” Her eyes are fierce as she lays it out. Speaks truths and faces them. Forces them both to see them as she does so.

“I fear the winter, and the wolves, and true hunger, and now I dread the growing fear that might consume me, of, of _twilight, and GUESTS_ of all things!” She shouted the last and her eyes watered as she pulled her oldest wounds open at the same time she forced Gandalf to face the new wounds laying over them. “I am terrified that each time a ring comes from my door-bell, I will feel a flash of fear as I try to tell myself it is someone I know, and that it is going to be safe. Do the same as I already must do each time the cold snaps during winter storms, the cold and dry air making my belly pang with a phantom gnawing hunger of such strength that I must check and account my larder and pantries in full before it will fade enough to sleep.” She clenched her teeth and moved a little half step forward, head tilting back as she stared up into Gandalf’s face, even with his concession to her height and the low entry, the move lifted her head high and forcing her jaw to firm. 

“It may well be that each time a heavy knock sounds, it will become like when a howl sounds, no matter if it is wind or wolf. Already each howl becomes, for a brief second, the memory of warm wet blood splashing on me. The sight, smell and horrible feel of my mother taking the rake of claws aimed for me seared into my mind for a heartbeat. Every time. I feel like I am a starving fauntling all over again."

"The jolt I may get from a knock, now, would possibly mimic that echoing memory sparked from howls. I fear it will become a reminder that no matter what I try, I can do NOTHING to protect myself. Not really. We can see how effective it really was, without the polite fiction. Just like that Fell Winter stripped the illusion of safety from wolves and famine in the Shire from the Shire as a whole, this night has stripped the illusion of safety in my home from me.”

Her eyes watered but her fists clenched tighter still. She could no more stop this revelation to him than she could to herself, her mind and mouth moving almost as one. 

“And the sheer terror I can still feel now, that is what frightens me the most. I thought I had stopped feeling it, but it is more that my body has gotten used to it, or is functioning through it. But it is there, just under the surface, because I can not tell myself, it is okay. That it is all right now. Because tonight, the men you sent to my home have destroyed every part of the feeling of home. Proven that my safety was an illusion only as real as the willingness of others to join in pretending it exists. _Don’t you tell me you’re sorry._ ” She choked on the last words, forcing them out. Her tears, as they swiftly fell from her cheeks, were matched by a single tear trailing down his own. He did not look away, however, did not turn away from her words and thus deny them.

She continued, “Don’t you tell me that you're _sorry_ for how I have been hurt, when you can’t tell me or know yourself, the full extent of what you, and they, the guests YOU invited into my life, have done to it.” Gandalf finally broke her gaze, closing his eyes for a moment and then opening both them and his mouth to speak again.

“That none can know the full repercussions of this night does not change the fact that I am most sorry, it is fact that I was at fault for instigating this meeting and being so late as to have it go so wrong. My contrition will not change the least if in the year you find your sense of safety and home restored, or if, in a decade there are still moments you feel the keen loss of it.” He bowed his head lower then looked up at her.

"I can tell you now, that Thorin and all the Dwarves wish to make amends for what they have done, and that, if you truly fear the very fear itself, then your best chance to concur it is to let them try to help you. Confronting that fear, and mastering it, will do more to keep it from consuming you, than hiding from it or soothing it alone ever will." Bilba would have snorted except that she could see the sense in his words. She was worn out, and felt ragged in every way. 

"They are going to try to fix the physical damage to the front rooms, and restock what they can of your larder tonight, but I can assure you that each and every one of them would die before laying a hand on you. It is no excuse, but if they had realized you were female, they would have likely waited for Thorin and myself outside it rather than intrude on your home at night."

Bilba did snort at that "It doesn't help at all, and right now all I want is them Gone, out of my house." Gandalf didn't say anything to remind her of his earlier words, but she huffed and flapped her hand at him in what was an incredibly rude gesture for anyone but a mother herding children to use. "Fine. Fine! Just. Keep them away. I, am exhausted, and need to set my room to something like rights. You, may have a point. If they leave, it will be like the wolves, forever, I will be trapped in the moment of loss, and never have anything else to counter it with." Bilba yawned large and jaw cracking, and Gandalf chuckled.

"Sleep, Bilba, we will talk again in the morning." He said and began to extricate himself from the window and bushes.

Bilba gave another derisive snort. "Fat chance, that, I'm not going to be able to sleep after this. Not a chance."

Within seconds of laying across her bed to try fishing up a hanger that had gotten wedged between the mattress and headboard, Bilba fell asleep, and dreamed not a single dream due to the subtle magic of a Wizard and sheer emotional exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, it's a minor re-write that will be coming- mostly me expanding a few things, and smoothing over the worst of the gaffes.
> 
> I plan to expand the descriptions in a few places- and dig a bit more into the Dwarrow Meta, but most of the second fic after the re-write is very much Thorin and Company and Bilba trying to soothe hurts and stumble into something like growth and forgiveness while learning more than is healthy about each other's races and cultures.   
> And it is time for bed- cheers all! (Yayyy! It's my cherry popping fic, all puns, once more, groan worthy)


End file.
